


You're a Cowboy Like Me

by ilreleonewikia13



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: 60s, 70s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Benny childhood, Child Prodigy, Discovering the truth, F/M, Flashback, Gamble, KGB, Post-Canon, Revenge, Spy - Freeform, USSR, admiting the feelings, finding soulmates, overcome a loss, two face of the same coin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilreleonewikia13/pseuds/ilreleonewikia13
Summary: " The feeling of impotence pervaded him and for the first time in his life, Benny felted himself incapable.  The only thing in the world he knew he was good in, the centre of his days and his energies, suddenly was taken over by someone else. He was not in control anymore. "Even after all these years, Benny could not forget that sensation, since that day his main and only goal was to wash away the impotence that he felt that day against Borgov from his skin.  His dream is to build a team so powerful to defeat the Soviets.For all his life he thought that he was going to remain alone against the entire world forever, that nobody would understand him ;Until he met her, she was like him.my playlist for my beth x benny fanfic
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	You're a Cowboy Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> The Slav Defense is one of the most popular openings with GM’s because it is one of the most solid lines to play against the Queen's Gambit.  
> For many players, the Slav Defense presents an impenetrable wall, too tough a nut to crack. In fact, the Slav Defense is one of the main reasons why plenty of 1.d4 players give up opting for mainlines and try their luck with more surprising sidelines.

**Candidates Tournament** ****

**1959 - Jugoslavia**

**Candidates Tournament**

**1959 - Jugoslavia**

_ We still hold each other in our palms _

_ pearls from the bottom of the sea _

_ and in the autumn days we take each other _

_ a piece of blue sky. _

“I’ve never seen weather so shitty.” said annoyed the young boy between his teeth with his strong Brooklyn’s accent, while watching the parking area of his hotel from the window of his taxi; from the car's dashboard came an irritating foreign light pop-song, that reminded him those gingles that you could easily hear in some  _ Bel Air _ 's commercials, where happy-smiling people smoke cigarettes under the sun while contemplating the sea horizon. At this thought, the boy grinned bitterly: in his condition, right now, there was nothing as such as summertime paradise.

The city he was about to leave,  _ Portorož _ , was nowadays a decadent seaside city, not yet recovered from the poverty caused by war and trapped by the memory of wealth now passed, located on the Jugoslav coast and with nothing much to offer other than some brand new tourists houses, built five years before, in front of the beachside, a casinò and a decaying  _ Art Nouveau-style _ hotel; all vapid things if you have the misfortune to visit it when the summer season is practically over; the long white seafront's streets, once teeming with flushed and smiling tourists, now were empty and lonely and the only thing he was able to observe for the entire duration of the tournament was a wet and depressing array of palms in front the entrance of his hotel. 

"Benjamin dear, I know that you're disappointed about these match, but you're going to have thousands of more opportunities to redeem yourself, this is not going to be the end of the world", said the young woman in her mid-thirties, sitting near him in the passenger seat, looking at him with a mist of compassion and displeasure in her big eyes, as if she had just surprised a cat falls from a tree after trying to climb it and she was attempting to cheer up him, fondling his blonde hair with her slim hand and a smile. 

At the sound of that name, the boy's eyes became darker and harsher than before; she knew that he hated to be called like that, and more importantly, he hated to be commiserated: he was not some miserable pet who failed to reach a fucking bough;  _ he was Benny Watts _ the youngest chess champion in USA's history, the one who entered in the senior league just three months after gaining the title of  _ International Master _ at age of sixteen, defeating all those old mummies that looked at him with their mockery faces, like if he was some kind of joke that was there for entertaining them and not a real player. For all these years, his main's goal was proving to the Federation, bust most importantly, to his father, that he deserved his pedestal and that for him chess wasn't just a game: it was his life, his purpose, his main goal. 

He wanted to see in the old man's eyes the awareness that no matter how much he insulted him, he will be always a winner compared to him.

But, like a house of cards blown away from the wind, all these crashed in a matter of few minutes: in his mind, it was like as if an immense wall of reinforced concrete had been put in front of him, and no matter how hard he tried or tried, that wall remained intact and motionless.

This was the horrible sensation that he felt for the past six days when Vasilj Borgov, one of the strongest soviet players in the world, beat him effortlessly, for four-time consecutively with less than twenty moves, like he’s crushing an ant with his shoe tip. At the right moment that he realized that a sensation of impotence pervaded him and for the first time in his life Benny felted himself incapable. The only thing in the world he knew he was good in, the centre of his days and his energies, suddenly was taken over by someone else and he was not in control of it anymore. 

Just the memory of his dark eyes, cold like the Siberian ice and emotionless, as if he were a lion ready to tear him to pieces, made him nauseous: he needed to leave that fucking place as quick as possible. 

"If you feel tired, you can lean on my shoulder and rest a bit. When we'll arrive at the airport I will wake you up, ok?" said his mother looking at him, as she could read his thoughts. 

Benny remained silent for a moment, still reluctant, but at the touch of her hand on his head, a strange tiredness fell upon him, and for a moment he felt again a frail five-year-old boy, embraced at his mother’s back, while she tried to make him sleep on the way home, in the Greenpoint neighbourhood, to his workplace, to the Soviet consulate in Manhattan. 

As soon this memory crossed his mind, the car left the hotel, and Benny gave one last glance at the front of the building, before closing his eyes and promised to himself that someday he will return, that he would never feel that type of impotence ever again, that one day he will beat Borgov in the same way he did with him. 

He wanted to carve that image forever on his mind, he decided while the space around him became blank and the only sound that he could hear was the same song as before. 

_ In the middle of dreamy flowers, _

_ my Portorož bathes in the sun. _

_ With quiet parks crammed, _

_ with groves sown. _

_ And in the little boat you're with me, _

_ the sea intoxicates us with intoxication. _

_ The fugitive kisses you wave, _

_ the mistral cools you. _

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was created after weeks of fangirling over the most fantastic and complicated ship that I ever saw, but I decided to write it one on my own because all the other one-shots that I read in the past days could not satisfy my need to see a real developed of these two from sex friend - to lovers, and a real dealing with their problems and addiction.  
> The first idea for this story was writing a long version of a one-shot, but more the time passed, more the story grew by itself, and I decided to develop it as if was the script of a second season. 
> 
> The main point of this almost second season is to tell, not only the point of view of Beth and how she's going to deal with her traumas but also finally know the childhood of Benny and how is affecting him till now. 
> 
> The title and the concept were heavily expired from Taylor Swift's last two albums, which are masterpiece, but if you're interested this is my playlist:   
> 


End file.
